


Starship Promise 2 (Atlas)

by Yoselin



Series: Starship Promise Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Starship Promise (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:05:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoselin/pseuds/Yoselin
Summary: Originally posted to Tumblr.Prompt: “I lost the baby.”





	Starship Promise 2 (Atlas)

“What about the name Maia?” I tap the page of the book and grin at Atlas.   
From his desk, tinkering with gears and screwdrivers, Atlas makes a face. He glances at the name, snorts, and turns back disinterestedly to his project.   
“Why Maia?”  
I hum and adjust myself on his bed so now my head hangs from the edge. “Maia was the name of the mythological Atlas’ daughter. I think it fits. She was the most beautiful of his daughters too. Don’t you think that’s a nice story for a name?”  
Atlas doesn’t respond and I bite my cheek with frustration.   
Ever since I found out I was pregnant a month ago, I’ve been scouring names. It took me forever to convince Atlas to help me pick one out-  
Or attempt to anyway. We’ve been at this for hours now.   
For at least five hours, I’ve picked names out of a book Nova lent me and have been running them through with Atlas. He doesn’t like any of them. He finds a way to shoot down whatever idea I have by mocking it.   
When I proposed ‘Charlotte’, he said it sounded like a school teacher he hated. When I suggested ‘Jack’, he said it was the name of a kid that punched him in the jaw when he was 12. The name ‘Anna’ was too generic. The name ‘Mike’ was too common.   
Hell, when I had even proposed naming the baby, ‘Atlas’ he had adamantly glared at me and said he hated naming a kid after a parent.   
I’m utterly at a loss for what to do.   
A groan tears through my lips and I heave myself out of bed.   
“Well what name do you like?”  
I wrap my arms around his back and he gives me half a glance before returning to his project of cog wheels and gears.   
“Why don’t we just do what my parents did?” He mumbles it out and presses on before I can interrupt him. “My parents just waited until I was born then named me after the first name they heard. I was named after some random nobody whose name was mentioned on my mom’s tablet.”  
I feel my eye twitch and I move away from Atlas. My hands close around the baby names book and I try to seem more assertive.   
“We are not doing that, Atlas. I want to actually have a name picked out before they arrive,” I deadpan, “will you please help me choose?”  
The room is quiet except for the sounds of the cog wheels scraping against the desk. Whatever Atlas is making seems to not be working properly. He’s getting tired with it.   
And me.   
He sets the wheels down and scratches at his cheek. The oil on his fingers leaves a streak extending from his nose to his lip and I bite back a laugh.   
“Fine, fine. What names do you like?” Atlas wraps his knuckles against the table.   
“I like Maia.”  
Atlas is quiet for a few moments, I can practically hear him turning it over in his head, before he returns to his invention.   
“Maia sounds too girly.”  
Another groan leaves my lips and I lift the book up to eye level.   
“We’re going to be here all night,” I complain.   
Atlas says nothing but the corner of his lip quirks up with amusement.   
I bristle and bury my nose back in the book intent on finding one name he can’t criticize. 

 

Although I scour the book extensively and practically read every name out to Atlas, he doesn’t like any of them.   
Three days after our conversation sees us at a bar in a nearby colony. Our last bounty mission went well and Jaxon has dragged us all to some high end drinking place with food I can’t name or stomach.   
I twirl my fork around disinterestedly and stab at my food limply. Despite how good the food smells, I can’t bring myself to take a bite.   
This morning, I was doubled over the toilet until I nearly blacked out. Atlas had to hold my hair back and he complained the entire time about needing to send me to the airlock. When I threatened to puke on his shoes, he finally shut up.   
Making a face at the food on my plate, I reach out and take a piece from Atlas’ meal. He glares at me although there’s no true malice in his expression.   
“Don’t you have your own food?” He grumbles it out and taps at my plate with his fork.   
I shrug and grin at him.   
“It’s not my fault your kid doesn’t like my plate,” I raise my water glass to my lips.   
“At least they have taste then,” Atlas mocks as he regards my plate with disgust. Apparently, the dish I chose is too ‘bland’.   
I glare at him until the waitress comes over. She’s a pretty girl with blue hair and translucent skin. She takes our empty plates and inquires about desert.   
I’m in no mood for it but Atlas orders himself a small brandy cake slice. The girl saunters off with his order and I catch the name on her name card. ‘Pleione’.   
I tap Atlas on the shoulder and drop my voice to a whisper.   
“Pleoine is a pretty name,” I suggest.   
Atlas makes a face and mumbles something about it being too weird.   
I sigh. 

 

Another day sees us in the Promise. The crew is seated around us and I have Comet across my lap. My fingers scratch at its head absentmindedly and I lean my head on Atlas’ shoulder.   
He is seated next to me while toying around with an old video game console. I can hear the ‘pew, pew, pew’ of it with every tap he makes.   
The room is briefly peaceful before Nova breaks the silence. Her fingers are flying over her tablet and she nods at me.   
“Cadey, how about the name Cassiopeia for your baby?”   
I open my mouth to tell her it’s nice before Atlas interrupts me.   
“It sounds ridiculous,” he complains.   
I send him a look and rub at Comet’s head. It leans into my touch and nuzzles me.   
“You don’t like any name, Atlas,” I mumble.   
Atlas glances down at me and scoffs. He mumbles something about being ‘just fine at picking names’ before returning to his game.   
Jaxon, from his place at his own tablet, grins at us.   
“How about naming the little one Jaxon? After his favorite uncle,” he winks at me.   
Atlas tenses and sets his game down. “Like Hell. As soon as my kid is born, you’re getting kicked out.”  
Jaxon makes an insulted face mockingly and turns his attention back to me. He grins at me and flexes his muscles. “Jaxon is a great name for a kid right, Cadey? It’s strong, manly-“  
“Arrogant,” Atlas grumbles out.   
I sit up and lean against the couch with Comet pressed to my lap.   
“Well Jaxon,” I pointedly look at Atlas, “since someone can’t come up with a name on his own, I guess ‘Jaxon’ isn’t off the table.”  
I grin to myself when Atlas splutters and glares. He picks his console back up and taps away at the screen a little more forcefully then necessary.   
“What if it’s a girl?”   
Orion levies the question at us from his seat. He has a book open on his lap although he hasn’t changed the page in a while. I reckon our conversation is too interesting.   
“Jaxonia?” Jaxon grins.   
I make a face before giggling. Atlas, next to me, sends his console hurtling at Jaxon’s head. 

 

The ship is dark by the time Atlas and I make it to our bedroom. We stumble into bed, exhausted from a day of coding and engineering, and I bury my head into Atlas’ neck. The soothing scent of engine grease and musk greet me and I nuzzle up next to him.   
“Have you chosen a name yet?”   
I trace patterns with my fingers on his knuckles. Atlas lets me for a few moments before his hand intertwines with mine. He gives my fingers an affectionate squeeze before heaving a sigh near my ear.   
“We don’t even know what it is yet,” he mumbles.   
His eyes are half lidded, breathtaking green peering at me from his lashes.   
Stars, I want our baby to have his eyes.   
I press my cheek against his and close my eyes. He has some stubble on his jaw and it tickles me. I smile softly.   
“I think it’s a girl,” I tell him.   
Atlas grunts but says nothing. When I glance at him, maybe it’s the lack of light, but his gaze looks softer than usual.   
“What do you think?” I press.   
“I think it doesn’t matter. Any kid we have will be great,” he answers back.   
A grin threatens to split my face in half and I laugh. The sound rings around the room and I press myself closer to his side. He turns so that he is facing me and places his palm against my stomach.   
I’m only about 2 months so nothing shows, yet his hand feels comfortable all the same. I lose myself in the feeling of having him pressed so close to me and close my eyes.   
Atlas’ heart thuds against his rib cage, a steady rhythm that makes my own heart feel calm. The sound of it is almost enough to put me to sleep, yet Atlas’ words bring me back to consciousness.   
“Maia,” he whispers.   
It’s only a light murmur, so I don’t catch it the first time. I have to ask him to repeat himself before the words make any sense.   
“I like the name Maia.”

 

A week trickles by and I am standing in the bridge with Orion and Atlas. Atlas is tinkering away at the front and setting coordinates in the flight plans. I take a glance at it before feeling dizzy. Atlas’ flight plans are nothing but swirling messes of lines and stars.   
My fingers fly away at the controls of the Promise and I type in line after line of code.   
Orion reads over some documents before nodding at Atlas.   
“There’s a nearby colony asking for help. The pay is good and the job doesn’t sound too dangerous. It’s just a hermit that owes money to the government and needs to be taken in. What do you think?”   
Atlas swivels around from his chair and grabs a bottle from somewhere near his desk. He cracks it open and shrugs.   
“You’re the captain,” he answers back.   
I nudge him with my boot playfully before nodding at Orion.   
“We need the money if we’re going to make a room on the Promise a nursery,” I reply.   
Orion nods, skims through the documents on his lap, before ordering Atlas to set a course.   
I grip Atlas’ hand in my own and give it a light squeeze.   
“Do you think we can have it modeled like a forest? Like maybe have a painter or something paint a landscape on the walls for Maia?”   
I smile to myself and picture a pretty nursery with trees lining the walls and paper flowers hanging from the ceiling. It would make a lovely sight, and Maia would learn what a real forest looks like. She wouldn’t just be stuck seeing nothing but stars and empty space as we travel through the solar systems.   
Atlas grunts into his bottle and shrugs.   
“If that’s what you want,” he replies.   
He tries to sound nonchalant about the idea, but I know he likes it too.   
I press a hand to my stomach, still not showing anything, and press my lips to Atlas’ cheek. 

 

Another week flies past and the nursery is made. The recent bounty we collected paid well and the others chipped in from their own salary to pay for the room.   
It really is lovely.   
The Promise’s room, once a supply closet, now looks like something in a museum.   
Trees and landscape cover the walls, flowers and vine decorations hang from the ceiling like a mobile. Even the crib, a beautifully intricate thing that Nova and Jaxon picked out, resembles the woods. The white wood is carved to look like branches and the bedding has flower prints. The name ‘MAIA’ is engraved into its side in beautiful calligraphy.   
I trace it with my finger and nudge Atlas with my hip.   
“Do you think she’ll like it?”   
Atlas quirks his lip up and taps the nameplate.   
“I think she’ll have to like it considering how much it cost. Now let’s just hope it’s not a boy,” he jokes. His hand reaches out to touch a hanging blue flower.   
“Hubble, that’d be awkward,” I laugh.   
Atlas chuckles at my side and presses a kiss to my cheek. His smile is bright as his eyes sweep through the room. I lean against him and hold his hand in mine.   
Standing in that nursery with Atlas next to me and a landscape of green fauna around me, I feel the happiest I’ve been in years. 

 

But happiness doesn’t last forever, does it?  
Two days later and tragedy strikes like lightning.   
It’s funny. My mother often said that life had a way of changing at the blink of an eye.   
One moment I’m sitting in the mess hall with the others, toasting to another job well done, and the next I’m wincing at massive pain hitting my abdomen.   
I try and hide it, plastering a smile to my face, but Nova picks up on it. Her senses alert her that something is wrong and she stands so suddenly that her chair goes skidding back.   
“Cadey? Is everything alright?”   
Her hand reaches for me and I try to wave her away.   
My hand clutches at my abdomen and I make my voice sound lighthearted.   
It doesn’t work. Another wave of pain hits and I feel something warm run down my legs.   
I glance down just enough to see red staining my pants before falling forward. Atlas is suddenly there, catching me in his arms, and the world goes black. 

 

From there, life is a blur of pain and depression.   
One moment I’m in the bed in the Promise listening to the engine roar faster than FTL, and then the next I am in a different room.   
A doctor from another planet is examining me and his face isn’t smiling. His eyes regard me wearily, mouth presses to a thin line, and he delivers an ultimatum that hurts.   
I stop listening as he drones on about how it’s common for people within my age group to have miscarriages, how the colonies have seen a lot of them in recent decades, and how a life always traveling at FTL puts stress on my body that makes carrying a pregnancy to term difficult.   
My chin presses against my hand and my entire body shakes. I feel suddenly numb, like all the strength has gone out of me, and I just want Atlas here.   
I say this much to the doctor and he complies.   
Moments later, the door opens and Atlas walks in.   
From the looks of his posture and carefully guarded expression, he already knows.   
Nevertheless, the sight of him makes my lip quiver. I reach out for him and he wraps me tightly into his arms. His heart is racing, I can feel it going a million miles a minute as he presses against me, and he’s almost shaking.   
“Atlas...”   
I whisper his name if only to give myself strength. He whispers my own name back, repeats it like a prayer under his breath, and presses me tighter against him.   
I shudder, feeling so empty and broken, and dig my nails into his jacket.   
“I lost the baby-“  
My voice cracks and a sob breaks out. I bury my head into his chest and cry. The tears won’t stop and I am sure I have never in my life cried this much before.   
Atlas holds me, body incredibly tense, before pressing his mouth to my ear.   
“I know,” he breathes out.   
He sounds as broken as I am. 

 

A few days later, I am released and am back in the Promise. The crew is eerily silent around me and Atlas, they don’t know what to say, and I am grateful for the silence. I don’t know what to say to them either.   
Comet spends the most time around me, ears down in sadness, and I welcome its presence.   
I lock myself in my room and hardly leave it. I don’t want to face anyone besides Atlas and Comet. My grief is too great to socialize and my body is in too much pain anyway.   
I toss and turn in bed, my abdomen aching, before sitting up. Everything aches but my heart hurts most of all.   
I swing myself out of bed and contemplate calling Atlas back to the room. I dismiss the notion, however, when I remember that he is probably piloting the ship manually.   
I bite the inside of my cheek and decide to just go and see him myself. Maybe watching the stars and planets fly past will bring me some peace of mind. Or maybe Atlas’ presence will be enough.   
I close the door to the room behind me and make my way through the corridors. I walk for a while, navigating my way to the bridge, before pausing.   
There’s a fork in the hall. One side leads to the bridge and the other one leads to a different room. I almost spin on my heels and ignore it but stop. For some reason, my body isn’t done torturing me.   
Rather than walk to the bridge and take comfort in Atlas, my feet take a mind of their own. I find myself walking to the one room I don’t think I’m quite ready to face just yet. 

 

The nursery door opens with a hiss and I step inside. The room is as lovely as it had been weeks ago. The forest landscape greets me in all sides and the flowers skim the top of my head.   
I lean against the door, nails digging into my palms, and just stand there.   
Every inch of this room hurts. The paintings hurt, the flowers hurt, and the crib with the name ‘MAIA’ carved into it hurts the most.   
I press my fist to my mouth, breath shaking, before kicking off the door. My fingers grasp at a flower and I trace the swirl of it.   
For a second, I just hold the decoration in my hands, then a feeling of blind rage and pain fills me and I am tearing it from the ceiling.   
The flower’s material cuts my fingers and I see blood rushing down my hand. I ignore it and keep yanking them down. The plastic pieces fall at my feet and I crush them with my shoes.   
I don’t stop until every flower lays at my teeth and is broken into shards.   
When I’m finally done, I plop down on the ground and press my bleeding hands to my face.   
It isn’t fair.   
It isn’t fair at all.   
How is it possible for life to go so wrong in mere months?   
How could I go from being an overjoyed expecting mother to a shell of something?   
I press my knuckle to my mouth and let out a silent scream. Tears run down my face and I feel like dying.   
My body falls back into the shards of broken plastic and I scrape my nails against the floor until I feel them break. More blood drips down into the floor until I feel my entire hand wet with it.   
I ignore the pain, however, and just lay there.   
At some point, I drift off, laying in a puddle of blood and broken flowers. 

 

When I come to, Atlas is lifting me into his arms and is pressing my bleeding hands to his own. He wraps cloth around my wounds and I drop my face to his neck.   
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.  
“For what?” He finishes bandaging up my hands and wraps an arm around my waist.   
“For not being strong enough to have Maia,” I answer back.   
More tears run down my face and Atlas makes a sound at the back of his throat. He presses me against his body so tightly that it hurts and kisses me. I can taste my own tears in the kiss and my head swirls.   
“It’s not your fault-not at all,” Atlas hisses out as he draws back.   
I bite my lip and press my forehead against his cheek. My eyes scan his face and I see that there are dark circles underneath his own eyes. So he’s had as much sleep as me.   
I trace my bandaged fingers across his cheek and he turns and presses a kiss to them. His arms hold me in place against him and I close my eyes.   
I don’t know how long we stay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, but we remain there for a long time.   
And as I regard the remnants of the nursery around me, I think we make a fitting picture:   
I mean, what better decorates a broken nursery than a broken family?


End file.
